


Remnants of a Time Long Gone

by fireynovacat



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Death is traumatizing, Everyone is Dead, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Ezra's been dead for awhile, Gen, How Do I Tag, Minor Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, give him a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireynovacat/pseuds/fireynovacat
Summary: The Empire is reaching its peak. In return a rebellion is rising. Of course, who better to fight than people who can't die? Also being dead for about a century does NOTHING for your trauma.Alt. Title - Novacat's off her rocker and talking about ghost PTSD.





	Remnants of a Time Long Gone

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes, ghost au. Nobody dies though! Blame, 4persephone, she encouraged me even with all the angst.

_The plains were empty and calm, to the unaware, dead. The sound of wildlife was faint, for most beings were asleep. Even the breeze was faint, only moving the smallest of things. Guard spires rose out of the ground, cutting an image out of the landscape. At the base, a collection of tents and temporary buildings lay, smoke curled from half dead fires. A small figure slipped out of one of the tents and crept to the base of the tallest spire and lept. The being made it about halfway up and scrambled upward, using hands and feet to climb. A final leap up and to the right landed them on a small platform.  
“Couldn’t sleep, kit?” The guard asked. The smaller figure shook his head, “There’s something wrong. The Gathole threatened us.” The guard chuckled, “Kit, they wouldn’t attack us. It would be a grave mistake.”_

_The guard couldn’t be more wrong._

\-----------

Capital City was bustling at this time of day, people rushing to wherever they were going. Zeb was leaning against the wall, watching the people go by. Not that it mattered; the upside to being a ghost, there was no need for rushing. He watched as Stormtroopers marched past and with a grin he scooped up a stray rock and chucked it. The small stone hit one’s helmet. They immediately turned to look, but saw nothing. “Somebody hit me!” The one he had hit said, swinging his head around. The patrol leader shook his head and shoved him forward, “We are already running behind, you can look later.” With much grumbling, the bucketheads followed. Zeb laughed at their confusion and for a second he thought he heard a small snickering, but it was gone before he could full register the sound.

He walked out of the city and stopped; he could almost feel something watching him. He walked up to the Ghost. The ramp was down and Chopper was waiting for him at the bottom. The droid whopped at him to “Hurry up, the movie is starting.”  
Zeb sighed, “Fine, fine.” He walked up the ramp and all the way to the main room. The Lasat settled down next to Sabine and the former Mandalorian warrior smiled and gently punched his shoulder. “Did you go people-watching again?”  
“Lothal is interesting place to be. The people are pretty interesting.” Hera grinned at the banter and she leaned into Kanan and Chopper flicked on the holo-projector. Kanan looked up and around the room with an odd look. Then he settled back down and watched the holo-film.

\------------

Stealing the crates was easy. They had distracted the guards and sped off through the back alleys on the bikes. They dumped the food crates at Tarkintown. It was heartwarming to see the joy on the people’s faces. Kanan wished they could talk to them, but it was good enough that they were doing the right thing; although, it was hilarious to hear all the theories concerning who brought the crates. His favorite by far was, “Maybe the Loth-wolves brought them. They are the Protectors.” The ghost was jerked out of his train of thought when he felt a faint odd sensation, like there was something he had seen and it was important, but couldn’t recall what it was.

\-------------

He shook his head in a superficial attempt to clear it as Hera approached. “Something’s bothering you.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple fact, one he couldn’t dispute. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s like I’m missing something. Like those games that were popular a couple if decades ago. You know, you look at something for a minute and then have to remember everything? It’s like that.” Hera nodded and put her hand on his shoulder.  
“Zeb swears there’s something there.” “So, I’m not crazy.” The Twi’lek smirked, “Or you’re both crazy.” Kanan grinned in response, “Maybe, maybe not. Just keep a lookout, please?” “Don’t worry, I will.”

\----------------

_It’s cold. So very cold. Numbing. He knew that. All his training and this is how it ends. He’s hyper aware and foggy at the same time. Pain and frozen. Numb._

\-----------------

Five rotations on Lothal and Kanan is seventy-five percent convinced they’re being watched. Which is ridiculous, considering that most people couldn’t see them. He’d only met one person that could and she was dead and had moved on. So either their “stalker” was a ghost or somebody who could see them and the chances of either are low. It’s annoying and confusing. The former Jedi sighed out of need to physically show irritation. ‘Okay, either I’m being ridiculous or I’m on to something.’ Then he called out to the plains, “Hello? We know you’re there. You can come out, we won’t hurt you.” There was absolute silence, except for the gentle breeze rustling the grass. The openness gave him nothing. There was no movement. If the watcher existed at all, if they were living; then they probably won every statue contest ever. Even a meditating Jedi couldn’t be that still and quiet.

“So, we’re shouting at grass now.” He jumped at Sabine’s sudden comment, “Don’t do that!” The Mandalorian laughed as she came to stand beside him,  
"Zeb thinks we have a friend. I’m guessing you do too.” Kanan nodded, no use denying that. “What do you think?”  
Sabine tilted her head in thought, staring out into the grassy void, “I doubted it before, but now I think it’s a possibility. I just find it odd, why haven’t they tried to talk to us? Why are they just watching?” She shook her head, “I’m having a hard time seeing them with any good intentions.” Now that was an strange conclusion, Kanan had never thought the watcher as having ill-will towards them.

“And why did you come to that conclusion?” The smaller ghost reached up to run her hand through her blue and orange locks. “If they were curious or wanted to know more about us, that would have approached us. Not just follow us around.”  
While Sabine did have a point, she hadn’t considered one possibility, “Or maybe they’re shy. We don’t know anything about them.” Sabine looked thoughtful again, “Alright, I’ll concede to that. Just, I wish that if they actually exist, that they would show themselves. If they are like us, we can’t hurt them. If they’re alive, well surely they have countermeasures to a ghost attack.”  
“Maybe, maybe not.” Kanan let his gaze travel around them, looking for any possible signs of somebody else, but there was nothing. “Anyway, Hera is planning one more op before we leave,” the last few words crescendoed, “we have to go back to the ship, she wants us all there.” They both turned and headed back to the Ghost and for a split second, Kanan was sure something had slipped away.

\----------------

_The spirit is bored. Nobody to talk to is actually tiring. Listening in on conversations didn’t help much, although learning languages was quickly becoming a hobby. How many did the ghost know now? Five or six? Not that any were particularly good and there would be lots of stumbling and wrong words if the ghost tried to use them. What was the point in actually being fluent if there was no use for it?_


End file.
